


Infinitea

by Chocchi



Series: Close Calls [2]
Category: Persona 4
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocchi/pseuds/Chocchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Souji tries to play it off as a joke, tries to say, "We've got to stop meeting like this," but his mouth feels like it's stuffed full of cotton, and his throat feels like it's been scraped raw with sandpaper, and in all honesty he's not sure he can focus enough to get it out coherently anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infinitea

**Author's Note:**

> All of these little oh-jesus-we-almost-died drabbles are based on my own close-call moments in my run-through of the game, so yeah.  
> Thanks to the lovely QQ for looking this over for me, and helping me come up with an ending!

When he wakes up in the break room at Junes with a worried Yosuke leaning over him, Souji tries to play it off as a joke, tries to say, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” but his mouth feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton, and his throat feels like it’s been scraped raw with sandpaper, and in all honesty he’s not sure he can focus enough to get it out coherently anyway.

“Jesus christ,” he hears Yosuke mumble, distantly, and then he’s moaning as his sore body is manhandled upright, and calloused fingers are prying his lips apart so somebody can dump something hot and bitter and _gross_ down his throat. Caught unprepared, Souji coughs probably half the mouthful up, but it must do whatever the hell it’s supposed to, because when he stops wheezing, the corners of his vision aren’t dark anymore, and he feels a little less like vomiting.

“Dude,” Yosuke says, then, sounding deeply disapproving, and Souji blinks and realizes he’d coughed up the liquid all over Yosuke’s shirt.

“You probably needed to change shirts anyway,” he manages to say, after a moment, speaking slowly in an effort to prevent his tongue from tripping over itself. He coughs again. “What-- what was--”

“Poison, remember?”

Vaguely. Mostly he remembers desperately hacking away at Kanji’s shadow, frustrated and overheating and _sick_ and bloody and bruised-- Chie and Yosuke going down-- Yukiko using a precious turn to revive Yosuke-- thinking _oh god, if we don’t get him in this next turn we’re gonna_ \--

He doesn’t really remember anything after Kanji socking his shadow in the jaw.

“This would be the point at which you explain to me why we didn’t have anything for poison,” Yosuke adds.

“When have we ever been poisoned before?”

Yosuke makes another disapproving noise.

“I don’t even know what to use for poison,” Souji confesses.

“Some kind of weird tea,” Yosuke says, gesturing almost absentmindedly to a nondescript tin sitting on the closest table. “Yukiko managed to-- _find_ some for you-- don’t ask me how, I’m not sure I _want_ to know.”

“Huh,” Souji says. “Well, thanks, I guess. To Yukiko. And also to you.”

“You owe me a shirt,” Yosuke informs him.

Small price to pay for not having to go to the hospital to get his stomach pumped, Souji thinks, privately, but then he squints up at Yosuke’s face and thinks that _maybe_ Yosuke is thinking something along the same lines, himself.

“Hey,” he says, reaching up to squeeze the hand that’s still on his cheek, keeping his chin tipped back. “It’s fine. ‘M okay.”

Yosuke scowls down at him, but he doesn’t move his hand, so he’s _probably_ not really mad. Much.

“Next chance you get,” he starts.

“--I’m going to the shopping district and buying at least ten cans of that stuff?” Souji guesses.

“ _Yes_ ,” Yosuke says, firmly.

“Are the girls really mad at me?”

“Nobody’s _mad_ at you, Souji,” Yosuke groans, then pauses. “Well. Maybe a little. But we were _worried_ , you-- you _asshole_.”

“Yeah,” Souji says. “Because _I’m_ the one who was knocked unconscious by a combination of poison and blunt force. Are _you_ okay?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Yosuke grumps.

“And Chie?”

“Chie might have a concussion,” Yosuke admits. “...Again.”

Souji frowns guiltily.

“Hey, stop that,” Yosuke huffs, jerking his chin up with the hand he still has yet to remove from Souji’s cheek. “She’s gonna be okay. Yukiko walked her and Kanji home.”

“Yukiko is made of tough stuff,” Souji mumbles, leaning into Yosuke’s hand.

“She sure is,” Yosuke laughs a little. “Everyone else is halfway to dead and she’s just over there shrieking at us and throwing healing spells right and left... man.”

“She’s a piece of work,” Souji smiles, tiredly.

“So’re you, partner,” Yosuke says, and his hand finally slips away from Souji’s face, but only to tuck itself under Souji’s armpit when Yosuke gets an arm around his back and _heaves_. They both stumble to their feet. “Seriously, though, man, you have to-- you have to stop doing this.”

“Yosuke--” Souji tries.

“Shut up,” Yosuke growls, shaking him by the collar. “Just-- for god’s sake be _careful_ , would you? I can’t-- I can’t do this without you.”

“Yosuke,” Souji says again, more softly this time. “You know this stuff’s dangerous.”

Yosuke scowls and avoids meeting his eyes.

“I’m doing my best,” Souji murmurs, gently prying Yosuke’s fingers out of the fabric of his shirt. “Maybe-- maybe we should have trained more, all of us, but. Sometimes we’re just going to make mistakes, and get hurt, and it’s going to be _okay_ because we’re all supporting _each other_. If I go down-- I know you have my back.”

Yosuke’s cheeks flush a dark pink. He stares at their hands.

“I still don’t like it,” he mutters, finally.

“Yeah, because _I_ was so thrilled when you _passed out_ in there,” Souji scoffs.

“Hey,” Yosuke protests. “Hey! Don’t make it sound like I-- like I _fainted_ or something, like a girl!”

“A girl, huh? Like Yukiko? Who never even--”

“Dude come on that’s--”

“-- _Began_ to falter, the entire battle--”

“--Not even a fair comparison, she’s--”

“-- _And_ who saved--”

“--A freaking _healer_ \--”

“--Your sorry ass?”

Yosuke gives Souji a distinctly sulky look.

“Don’t give me that,” Souji says. “You know I’m right.”

“Yeah, well,” Yosuke makes a face. “Whatever, okay? I’m going to mop up all that tea you wasted and then I’m hauling _your_ sorry ass home.”

“I don’t need an escort,” Souji grumbles.

“You were _unconcious_ like five minutes ago.”

“What’s your point?”

Yosuke just gives him a disbelieving look and tugs his hands out of Souji’s, grabbing a mop in the corner. “Text the girls, let them know you’re not dead.”

“Was that a major concern?”

“You weren’t waking up!”

Souji startles. “Yosuke, I was _joking_.”

Yosuke works his jaw for a second, looking frustrated and defensive, then shakes his head and turns back to the mess on the floor. Souji just-- _stares_ at him, for a minute, watches him clean up with harsh, jerky movements. When he’s done, he shoves the mop back into the corner with more force than necessary, jams his hands in his pockets, and comes to stand in front of Souji with his shoulders hunched and his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes anywhere but Souji’s face.

“Let’s go.”

“Hey,” Souji reaches out, hesitantly, to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m really sorry, you know? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know,” Yosuke mumbles. The whole-body tension lessens a little. “I know, I just... dammit, partner, we save Kanji and get the hell back to Junes and I think we’re gonna be okay, for today, and then all the sudden you go and collapse out of fucking _nowhere_ and...”

He shakes his head again, and reaches up to gingerly take the hand Souji has on his shoulder into his own. “If you’re hurt, you have to _tell us_ , okay? You scared the _shit_ out of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Souji repeats, lacing his fingers through Yosuke’s. Their hands slip off Yosuke’s shoulder and swing gently between them. “I’ll try to be more careful. I promise.”

“You better,” Yosuke mumbles. If he doesn’t pull his hand away for a minute, and just kind of lets his head fall onto Souji’s shoulder, well, nobody has to know about it, do they?

 

(When they finally stagger into Souji’s front entryway, Souji almost turns right back around and runs away at the sight of Dojima, waiting with a stern glower and crossed arms.

“The hell happened to you?” he demands, when Souji reluctantly stumbles a few feet closer, despite the pressing urge to hide behind Yosuke and/or flee. His gaze flickers to Yosuke and Yosuke’s wet shirt, and his eyebrows shoot up. “The hell happened to _you?_ ”

“He ate something bad,” Yosuke mutters, awkwardly shifting in place. Souji gives him an apologetic look. “I was just. Um. Making sure he got home okay.”

“Hmph,” Dojima says. He stares at Yosuke suspiciously for a moment that stretches on and on and _on_ , then shakes his head. “Well, thanks for looking after Souji, I guess.”

“No problem,” Yosuke says. “Sir. I’m just gonna, uh.”

He promptly flees.)


End file.
